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Melcavuk

The Suneater Tribes Ogors and Aeloran Nomad Aelves now revisited for the Living City (19/09/19)

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2 hours ago, Melcavuk said:

Cheers and yes I believe it’s the original base, the horn overhang matches the photo on the gw site. I don’t tend to keep my bases organised but it matches the base for the stonehorn I made today out of my various excess sprues (2 behemoths out of my bits box isn’t bad for a weekend work)

thats pretty good, I like his beer/fyre powder barrel in the back. As for the bits box, it's always good to reuse bits in custom projects, I built myself a Bone Gian model for my(small) Tomb Kings army; The Furnace Kings project of mine also refuses a lot of my older(and sadly) broken models for spare parts. 

 

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Those beastclaw the join up with a Suneaters migration do not escape the blistering heat and blidning light of the glory of their gods attention, even the icy blood in their veins slowly transforms to the roaring magma flow of his divine lifes blood. Their forms riddled with this coarsing volcanic energy slowly begin to unravel, piercing light tearing through rough hide to unveil the destruction brewing within:

 

WIP STONEHORN

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Edited by Melcavuk
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Great updates, though man I think those beasts are going to be toasty with all that fur on!

 

Also this is semi related but these upcoming Runewars minis look like they could be a neat addition to a more volcano/desert land ogors (no idea exactly though their scaling). Just add some blood to their weapons and they may look like a good Non Cauldron Butcher.

Spoiler

rwm37_layout.png

 

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WIP Surt'Ar, First Prophet of the Suneater Tribes
 
Known Names:
The First (Also known as First Prophet) - Surt'ar is often referred to both as The First and The First Prophet, in terms of the Suneaters both are equally true. When he climbed back through the mighty Jaws of the Suneater he was born again as the very first member of the Suneater tribes, he was also gifted a sliver of the divine power that he pulled from the god that rebirthed him becoming the first ever Volsungr of the tribes
Forsworn of Vulcatrix - In part Surt’ar owes his unnatural longevity and might to the powers instilled in the life’s blood of Vulcatrix. When the great godbeast was shattered by the puny Duardin god little regard was given to where shards of her form fell. In each of these craters great volcanos blossomed to life pulsing with the scorching heat of every drop of her blood. Robbed of the fight Gorkamorka was not one to turn down a free meal, scouring the realms he found the still beating heart of the great salamander, in one mighty gulp he swallowed it whole. Legend says this heart still lurks within the gods stomach, pulsing undeterred, and from this the First Prophet drank deep of the blood of a Godbeast to sustain him in his long stay in his gods gullet.
Exalted of the Suneater - Every Volsungr to follow in the Great Prophets footsteps is at best a poor imitation of his power, whilst each stands taller and stronger than any other Ogors they cannot match the sheer potency that came with the First. In this way he is considered the Exalted of their God, the first of his kind and without comparison.
Surt’ar - The Last Chief of the Iron Klaw clan, and founder of the Burning Klaws this once mortal creature answered to the name Surt'ar before his ascension.
Ruler Over All - Suneaters despise the cities of order encroaching upon their lands, none more so than Surt'ar whose tribe was butchered by this relentless invasion of order upon the realms. By divine law Surt'ar asserts dominion over all that the light of the Sun touches, by right of his gods power.
 
Description:
His once mundane Ogor form has long since given way to the unrelenting heat of the Suneater, the very blood in his veins boiled his skin until it sloughed away from a mighty molten form. With age and mastery of the winds of Aqshy Surt'ar has resculpted himself a form, sinews shaped from living flows of magma, the pulsing heart of the volcano fuelling his power and every footstep rendering dirt to glass beneath his feet. In this way he stands at over twice the height of any Ogor, more gargant now than his flesh and blood kin, but he has never entered the long sleep of the Exalted, never had his flesh given way to the stone that slows the muscles and brains of his most favoured disciples. In many Ogor tribes his smaller stature than the Exalted would render him secondary to them in the chain of command, yet none contest his rule over all of the tribes, within his heart pulses the very power of their god, his every word revered as divine law, on the field of battle none match his sheer destructive force, his unrelenting will and fury beyond ages.
In battle he wields two relics of his power (though some contest these had previously been stolen from other tribes):
Pok'Gar - The Tongue of Vulcatrix is a whip wrought from the living flames of Aqshy, whilst unlikely to have been formed out of the literal tongue of the godbeast (as such a thing would dwarf even the great drakes of the realms) it is an exquisite weapon of destruction, coursing with a life of its own feeding on the very winds of flame that surge throughout the realms.
Savar - This heavy magma drenched mace is said to have been formed from crowns taken from conquered kingdoms, each king is said to have burnt alive with all his finery, the great Gothi priests sculpting the bone meal and precious metals with the spark of divine power of their forges into the weapon Savar, butcher of Kingdoms.
Lost in Ice and Flame:
The First Prophet disappeared from the tribes millennia ago, stories circulate around his exact reasons why but no Ogor could truly speak to what filled the mind of such a mighty champion of the Suneater. Most assumed he marched forth to the first Pyre, much in the same way the other ancient prophets have done that they might prepare for the final battle at the side of their mighty God, though none returning from the Pyre speak of the First Prophet. In truth his rampage outgrew even the mighty tribes of the Suneaters, he was stronger and faster than any of his kin, his hunger for battle outlasted any of the savage soldiers who fought at his side, he could march for days when lesser mortals had to stop to rest. One by one his migration fell out of step with the great Prophet, they were left to wage war in his wake and decimate those civilizations too small to face the wrath of the mighty one.
It was an alliance of Aelves and Sylvaneth who stunted this rampage, though the battle waged long into the winter seasons it was as the weather began to grow cold and the great flames of his forms waged war with the icy elements that the alliance of Order began to gain the upper hand. Grew flocks of the frostheart Phoenix flew high above the Magma drenched gargant, a swirling tempest of lashing ice and snow caged him in. Great war beasts of the Aelven empire dragged mighty chains forth, raised high by the Arcane powers of their masters to lock onto the rampaging Prophets limbs, inch by inch his volatile form was dragged forth, his feet digging deep into the battle worn fields as he lashed out at his would-be captors with massive blows of his flame wreathed weaponry.
It was with a final roar of contempt that the Prophet was pulled from the field of battle, sent tumbling down into a darkened chasm with even the brilliant light of his form disappearing into the darkness of the depths. Yet the Aelven empires knew that such a creature could not truly be killed by such trivial means, at best they could cage him until a weapon could be forged to slay the great beast, and for this their greatest sorcerers set to work shaping the very landscape around them to become a cage hewn from nature. Three great rivers were rerouted through the realm, the dirt roiling upwards and great tracts carved through the hillside, sending their murky waters tumbling into the great chasm to quench the flames of the Prophets rage, hissing gouts of steam spitting upwards into the skies above. Time has long since forgotten the battle, and the prisoner since caged, pilgrims even starting to reverse the geyser of Ghyran as a holy site of Alarielle interpreting its hissing as divinations of their gods will. And with ages these volatile days became something of myth, eventually lost to history in the Age of Chaos as all things are in the death of civilisations.
Hidden at the foot of the Arboreal Mountains in Ghyran lay the nameless city, its new denizens dubbed it the Phoenicium and so content were they in their own victory in liberating this ancient stonehewn marvel that they asked not what it had been called before, nor why its echoing halls bore the arcane symbols of magics long since lost. In the years since the War for Ghyran and the liberation of the Phoenicium the architects of Azyr are still finding new marvels lurking within the expansive labyrinth that runs beneath the mountainrange, their arcane historians tracing back runes and wardings to some of the oldest civilizations in the realms all focusing power throughout the complex as though a lightning rod to the very heart of Ghyran.
Yet still they have not found the chamber of whispering, long since hidden from the prying eyes from mortals yet the voices within carry out into the echoing tunnels that form the Labyrinth. In the dead of night the young say they can hear the soft murmurings of lost voices, as though a lullaby reverberating through the stone itself, at once echoeing from every wall and none at all. This hidden chamber lay within the very heart of the city, no windows or doors piercing its marble walls, there was afterall no surface untouched by the wardings erected by its architects, the height of the chamber seemingly pierces high into the mountaintops, no ceiling visible to the naked eye and no light able to pierce such lingering darkness.
At the heart of this rounded chamber lay the Altar, a roaring flame hovering above ground level, shifting and warping as though tugging at some invisible bonds that refuse to release their grasp. Around it three Oracles kneel in constant prayer in flowing waters of the restorative fount of Ghyran, their ancient skin showing no sign of age beyond a few decades though their eyes, blinded to the physical world, seem yet to carry wisdom that kings would never truly achieve. Here they have remained, their ward and duty demanding their every attention since the inception of this great work, it was the oracles who ensured neither man nor aelf would pierce the great stone walls of the Nameless city in the age of chaos, it was they who ensured the cage would not be broken by mortal hands.
Each oracle courses and sways as though the very rivers of Ghyran themselves, the waters around them raising and falling with every motion, rushing toward the altar in crashing waves before receeding to the very edges of the chamber, their lips moving in constant prayer, soft lullabies seemingly to soothe the restless flame thatlurks at the chambers heart. Here they would have remained undeterred till realms end... but Nagash's great work was ignorant to their very existance let alone their purpose, he did not think of the repercussions when he sent his wave of malicious energies coursing through every vein in the realms. most villages merely felt the briefest of tremor, soon forgotten with the arrival of the restless dead urging more to join the ranks. The Whispering Chamber however, this great conduit of arcane power to the very heart of Ghyran was shaken by the convergence, even ignorant to the chambers existance the populace of the Phoenicium felt as every stone heaved and twisted in the impact of volatile magics, within the chamber itself the oracles screamed out as one in piercing agony, their heads flung back and sightless eyes burning bright with the same radiance as the flame, all water in the chamber bucking and recoiling from the flame as the oracles were riddled with torment.
Nagashes powers flooded the chamber, rising through the arcane sigils across the walls, every inch it crawled higher fresh fissures began to form within the ancient marbling of the chamber, ageless symbols broken unable to contain the shockwave of magic that had been unleashed upon the realms. One by one the Oracles slumped forward, the heat of their body sending great clouds of steam racing skyward as the waters of Ghyran evaporated, tendrils of the flame inching their now lifeless forms toward the rooms central altar.
Deep within the lost forests of Ghyran there is more worrisome news, the water levels of three rivers that forged a winding path through the hills of the Realm have dropped, with every passing day less water reaches the chasmic prison of the Prophet. And those Pilgrims who visit the site no longer hear the whispers of Alarielle from the Geyser, instead they speak of a roar of endless rage and the clanging of chains...
 
 
Destroyer of Civilizations:
Had Surt’ars rampage not been cut short in the Age of Myth there is no telling the damage he could have dealt to the growing expanse of order, indeed the Suneater Tribes claim that they would have better held the tide of chaos than any Order alliance had their Prophet been at the head of the Migration. Yet imprisoned he was, for an Age he was alone, cursed with his rage and the burning fury of his god, subject to the unrelenting torrents of the great Falls of Ghyran in a prison of water and arcane sorcery. All that time did nothing to lessen his hatred for the Aelves and their kind, the constant torment honing his blunt anger into a weapon of precise destruction. Now freed unwittingly by Nagash and his Necroquake this titan of destruction has clawed his way out of the pit for the second time in his life, ready to seek out his kin and see what has become of his legacy. Once more at the head of the great Migrations of the tribe it will not be long until he steers it into the very heart of Sigmars cities, that true destruction might reign in the realms once more.
 
On the Battlefield:
Surt’ar is one of the few mid-sized heroes within the Suneater tribes, where as his lesser Volsungr seek out the power of the Magmadrake to lend to their own in the heat of battle, and the mighty Exalted are entombed in the volcanic rock that an Age of rest has rendered upon their forms Surt’ar represents the ideal his kin strive for. This makes him unique in the alliance, whilst large he is not fully considered a monster, toeing the fine line between monstrous infantry and the larger beasts in your army.
Surt’ar is at his very heart a combat berserker, designed to charge into the very heart of your enemies forces and carve down their heroes, yet with his smaller stature he lacks the resilience of some of your larger heroes and for this reason is ideally supported by Gothi Priests who will further enhance his combat potential either with vital healing prayers to keep him in the fight longer, lending Volcanic blows to enhance his weapons to sunder even the toughest armour into dust or choking his victims in ash so that they might not fight back.
Utilising Surt’ar alongside the powers from Pyres allegiance ability will be a furious assault upon your opponents defences, coupling his ability to increase the attacks characteristic of a nearby unit along with the Pyres ability to run and charge in the same turn can turn a unit of Fyreborn Fanatics into a blender of flame and beaten steel.
Unlike most named characters Surt’ar does not show affinity to any particular Tribe within the Suneaters, each of them has been birthed from his own Burning Klaws and it is his energy the powers the Volsungr in every migration. With rumours of his return spreading throughout the tribes Gothi priests can be heard wailing into the mighty Volcanoes of the realms, that he might hear their cry and emerge from the roiling molten rock to lead their tribe into war.
 
Model Inspiration:
I had a few concepts in mind for when modelling Surt’ar and in my eagerness I explained each in turn to my partner, whilst perfect at humouring my creativity she can often see things in the design stages that escape my notice due to enthusiasm. In this case it was simple “So its another big monster?”, yes… yes it was, every model I have made for this faction so far has been the constant strive to go bigger, go tougher, but The First isn’t about size its about power and rage, adding another monstrous miniature to the battlefield would make the force unwieldy, whats more it does little to differentiate what makes him different from the rest of his kind.
For this reason, we’ve actually opted to go SMALLER (ironic that’s in bigger text, right?), currently Surt’ar stands only at twice the height of an Ogor, indeed even with his own trophies adding to height he is smaller than both the Volsungr on Magma Drake and stands just over half the height of the Exalted Volsungr. This is nice for a couple of reasons, firstly he stands it in an army of “bigger” by being unique and midsized, secondly it means I can lop off the behemoth requirement for him and am considering removing the monster keyword too.
 

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3 hours ago, Melcavuk said:
WIP Surt'Ar, First Prophet of the Suneater Tribes
 
Known Names:
The First (Also known as First Prophet) - Surt'ar is often referred to both as The First and The First Prophet, in terms of the Suneaters both are equally true. When he climbed back through the mighty Jaws of the Suneater he was born again as the very first member of the Suneater tribes, he was also gifted a sliver of the divine power that he pulled from the god that rebirthed him becoming the first ever Volsungr of the tribes
Forsworn of Vulcatrix - In part Surt’ar owes his unnatural longevity and might to the powers instilled in the life’s blood of Vulcatrix. When the great godbeast was shattered by the puny Duardin god little regard was given to where shards of her form fell. In each of these craters great volcanos blossomed to life pulsing with the scorching heat of every drop of her blood. Robbed of the fight Gorkamorka was not one to turn down a free meal, scouring the realms he found the still beating heart of the great salamander, in one mighty gulp he swallowed it whole. Legend says this heart still lurks within the gods stomach, pulsing undeterred, and from this the First Prophet drank deep of the blood of a Godbeast to sustain him in his long stay in his gods gullet.
Exalted of the Suneater - Every Volsungr to follow in the Great Prophets footsteps is at best a poor imitation of his power, whilst each stands taller and stronger than any other Ogors they cannot match the sheer potency that came with the First. In this way he is considered the Exalted of their God, the first of his kind and without comparison.
Surt’ar - The Last Chief of the Iron Klaw clan, and founder of the Burning Klaws this once mortal creature answered to the name Surt'ar before his ascension.
Ruler Over All - Suneaters despise the cities of order encroaching upon their lands, none more so than Surt'ar whose tribe was butchered by this relentless invasion of order upon the realms. By divine law Surt'ar asserts dominion over all that the light of the Sun touches, by right of his gods power.
 
Description:
His once mundane Ogor form has long since given way to the unrelenting heat of the Suneater, the very blood in his veins boiled his skin until it sloughed away from a mighty molten form. With age and mastery of the winds of Aqshy Surt'ar has resculpted himself a form, sinews shaped from living flows of magma, the pulsing heart of the volcano fuelling his power and every footstep rendering dirt to glass beneath his feet. In this way he stands at over twice the height of any Ogor, more gargant now than his flesh and blood kin, but he has never entered the long sleep of the Exalted, never had his flesh given way to the stone that slows the muscles and brains of his most favoured disciples. In many Ogor tribes his smaller stature than the Exalted would render him secondary to them in the chain of command, yet none contest his rule over all of the tribes, within his heart pulses the very power of their god, his every word revered as divine law, on the field of battle none match his sheer destructive force, his unrelenting will and fury beyond ages.
In battle he wields two relics of his power (though some contest these had previously been stolen from other tribes):
Pok'Gar - The Tongue of Vulcatrix is a whip wrought from the living flames of Aqshy, whilst unlikely to have been formed out of the literal tongue of the godbeast (as such a thing would dwarf even the great drakes of the realms) it is an exquisite weapon of destruction, coursing with a life of its own feeding on the very winds of flame that surge throughout the realms.
Savar - This heavy magma drenched mace is said to have been formed from crowns taken from conquered kingdoms, each king is said to have burnt alive with all his finery, the great Gothi priests sculpting the bone meal and precious metals with the spark of divine power of their forges into the weapon Savar, butcher of Kingdoms.
Lost in Ice and Flame:
The First Prophet disappeared from the tribes millennia ago, stories circulate around his exact reasons why but no Ogor could truly speak to what filled the mind of such a mighty champion of the Suneater. Most assumed he marched forth to the first Pyre, much in the same way the other ancient prophets have done that they might prepare for the final battle at the side of their mighty God, though none returning from the Pyre speak of the First Prophet. In truth his rampage outgrew even the mighty tribes of the Suneaters, he was stronger and faster than any of his kin, his hunger for battle outlasted any of the savage soldiers who fought at his side, he could march for days when lesser mortals had to stop to rest. One by one his migration fell out of step with the great Prophet, they were left to wage war in his wake and decimate those civilizations too small to face the wrath of the mighty one.
It was an alliance of Aelves and Sylvaneth who stunted this rampage, though the battle waged long into the winter seasons it was as the weather began to grow cold and the great flames of his forms waged war with the icy elements that the alliance of Order began to gain the upper hand. Grew flocks of the frostheart Phoenix flew high above the Magma drenched gargant, a swirling tempest of lashing ice and snow caged him in. Great war beasts of the Aelven empire dragged mighty chains forth, raised high by the Arcane powers of their masters to lock onto the rampaging Prophets limbs, inch by inch his volatile form was dragged forth, his feet digging deep into the battle worn fields as he lashed out at his would-be captors with massive blows of his flame wreathed weaponry.
It was with a final roar of contempt that the Prophet was pulled from the field of battle, sent tumbling down into a darkened chasm with even the brilliant light of his form disappearing into the darkness of the depths. Yet the Aelven empires knew that such a creature could not truly be killed by such trivial means, at best they could cage him until a weapon could be forged to slay the great beast, and for this their greatest sorcerers set to work shaping the very landscape around them to become a cage hewn from nature. Three great rivers were rerouted through the realm, the dirt roiling upwards and great tracts carved through the hillside, sending their murky waters tumbling into the great chasm to quench the flames of the Prophets rage, hissing gouts of steam spitting upwards into the skies above. Time has long since forgotten the battle, and the prisoner since caged, pilgrims even starting to reverse the geyser of Ghyran as a holy site of Alarielle interpreting its hissing as divinations of their gods will. And with ages these volatile days became something of myth, eventually lost to history in the Age of Chaos as all things are in the death of civilisations.
Hidden at the foot of the Arboreal Mountains in Ghyran lay the nameless city, its new denizens dubbed it the Phoenicium and so content were they in their own victory in liberating this ancient stonehewn marvel that they asked not what it had been called before, nor why its echoing halls bore the arcane symbols of magics long since lost. In the years since the War for Ghyran and the liberation of the Phoenicium the architects of Azyr are still finding new marvels lurking within the expansive labyrinth that runs beneath the mountainrange, their arcane historians tracing back runes and wardings to some of the oldest civilizations in the realms all focusing power throughout the complex as though a lightning rod to the very heart of Ghyran.
Yet still they have not found the chamber of whispering, long since hidden from the prying eyes from mortals yet the voices within carry out into the echoing tunnels that form the Labyrinth. In the dead of night the young say they can hear the soft murmurings of lost voices, as though a lullaby reverberating through the stone itself, at once echoeing from every wall and none at all. This hidden chamber lay within the very heart of the city, no windows or doors piercing its marble walls, there was afterall no surface untouched by the wardings erected by its architects, the height of the chamber seemingly pierces high into the mountaintops, no ceiling visible to the naked eye and no light able to pierce such lingering darkness.
At the heart of this rounded chamber lay the Altar, a roaring flame hovering above ground level, shifting and warping as though tugging at some invisible bonds that refuse to release their grasp. Around it three Oracles kneel in constant prayer in flowing waters of the restorative fount of Ghyran, their ancient skin showing no sign of age beyond a few decades though their eyes, blinded to the physical world, seem yet to carry wisdom that kings would never truly achieve. Here they have remained, their ward and duty demanding their every attention since the inception of this great work, it was the oracles who ensured neither man nor aelf would pierce the great stone walls of the Nameless city in the age of chaos, it was they who ensured the cage would not be broken by mortal hands.
Each oracle courses and sways as though the very rivers of Ghyran themselves, the waters around them raising and falling with every motion, rushing toward the altar in crashing waves before receeding to the very edges of the chamber, their lips moving in constant prayer, soft lullabies seemingly to soothe the restless flame thatlurks at the chambers heart. Here they would have remained undeterred till realms end... but Nagash's great work was ignorant to their very existance let alone their purpose, he did not think of the repercussions when he sent his wave of malicious energies coursing through every vein in the realms. most villages merely felt the briefest of tremor, soon forgotten with the arrival of the restless dead urging more to join the ranks. The Whispering Chamber however, this great conduit of arcane power to the very heart of Ghyran was shaken by the convergence, even ignorant to the chambers existance the populace of the Phoenicium felt as every stone heaved and twisted in the impact of volatile magics, within the chamber itself the oracles screamed out as one in piercing agony, their heads flung back and sightless eyes burning bright with the same radiance as the flame, all water in the chamber bucking and recoiling from the flame as the oracles were riddled with torment.
Nagashes powers flooded the chamber, rising through the arcane sigils across the walls, every inch it crawled higher fresh fissures began to form within the ancient marbling of the chamber, ageless symbols broken unable to contain the shockwave of magic that had been unleashed upon the realms. One by one the Oracles slumped forward, the heat of their body sending great clouds of steam racing skyward as the waters of Ghyran evaporated, tendrils of the flame inching their now lifeless forms toward the rooms central altar.
Deep within the lost forests of Ghyran there is more worrisome news, the water levels of three rivers that forged a winding path through the hills of the Realm have dropped, with every passing day less water reaches the chasmic prison of the Prophet. And those Pilgrims who visit the site no longer hear the whispers of Alarielle from the Geyser, instead they speak of a roar of endless rage and the clanging of chains...
 
 
Destroyer of Civilizations:
Had Surt’ars rampage not been cut short in the Age of Myth there is no telling the damage he could have dealt to the growing expanse of order, indeed the Suneater Tribes claim that they would have better held the tide of chaos than any Order alliance had their Prophet been at the head of the Migration. Yet imprisoned he was, for an Age he was alone, cursed with his rage and the burning fury of his god, subject to the unrelenting torrents of the great Falls of Ghyran in a prison of water and arcane sorcery. All that time did nothing to lessen his hatred for the Aelves and their kind, the constant torment honing his blunt anger into a weapon of precise destruction. Now freed unwittingly by Nagash and his Necroquake this titan of destruction has clawed his way out of the pit for the second time in his life, ready to seek out his kin and see what has become of his legacy. Once more at the head of the great Migrations of the tribe it will not be long until he steers it into the very heart of Sigmars cities, that true destruction might reign in the realms once more.
 
On the Battlefield:
Surt’ar is one of the few mid-sized heroes within the Suneater tribes, where as his lesser Volsungr seek out the power of the Magmadrake to lend to their own in the heat of battle, and the mighty Exalted are entombed in the volcanic rock that an Age of rest has rendered upon their forms Surt’ar represents the ideal his kin strive for. This makes him unique in the alliance, whilst large he is not fully considered a monster, toeing the fine line between monstrous infantry and the larger beasts in your army.
Surt’ar is at his very heart a combat berserker, designed to charge into the very heart of your enemies forces and carve down their heroes, yet with his smaller stature he lacks the resilience of some of your larger heroes and for this reason is ideally supported by Gothi Priests who will further enhance his combat potential either with vital healing prayers to keep him in the fight longer, lending Volcanic blows to enhance his weapons to sunder even the toughest armour into dust or choking his victims in ash so that they might not fight back.
Utilising Surt’ar alongside the powers from Pyres allegiance ability will be a furious assault upon your opponents defences, coupling his ability to increase the attacks characteristic of a nearby unit along with the Pyres ability to run and charge in the same turn can turn a unit of Fyreborn Fanatics into a blender of flame and beaten steel.
Unlike most named characters Surt’ar does not show affinity to any particular Tribe within the Suneaters, each of them has been birthed from his own Burning Klaws and it is his energy the powers the Volsungr in every migration. With rumours of his return spreading throughout the tribes Gothi priests can be heard wailing into the mighty Volcanoes of the realms, that he might hear their cry and emerge from the roiling molten rock to lead their tribe into war.
 
Model Inspiration:
I had a few concepts in mind for when modelling Surt’ar and in my eagerness I explained each in turn to my partner, whilst perfect at humouring my creativity she can often see things in the design stages that escape my notice due to enthusiasm. In this case it was simple “So its another big monster?”, yes… yes it was, every model I have made for this faction so far has been the constant strive to go bigger, go tougher, but The First isn’t about size its about power and rage, adding another monstrous miniature to the battlefield would make the force unwieldy, whats more it does little to differentiate what makes him different from the rest of his kind.
For this reason, we’ve actually opted to go SMALLER (ironic that’s in bigger text, right?), currently Surt’ar stands only at twice the height of an Ogor, indeed even with his own trophies adding to height he is smaller than both the Volsungr on Magma Drake and stands just over half the height of the Exalted Volsungr. This is nice for a couple of reasons, firstly he stands it in an army of “bigger” by being unique and midsized, secondly it means I can lop off the behemoth requirement for him and am considering removing the monster keyword too.
 

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Amazing! though I'm a bit sad your not using the Khornate Daemon Prince model, the troll model from The Hobbit is a perfect fit!

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Cheers, I'm sure I'll end up using the Khorne model at some stage for a different model, for now Colour gives context for the current WIP:

 

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SCALE SHOTS:

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Edited by Melcavuk
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A little more paint before the excessive heat has forced me to stop for a few hours:

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Also a look backwards with the most recent model from the faction alongside the very first, as I have worked through the models within the faction the paintjobs have been refined and the techniques repeated to the point where they have developed their own style, looking back at the first model I'm still proud of him but definately feel Surt'Ar is a level above.

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Nearly finished, just want to push some of the skin contrast, fix the side of the foot and some extreme edge highlighting

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Happy to call him finished for now, Surt'ar can now join the rest of the migration in my display cabinet!

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31 minutes ago, kenshin620 said:

Someone at FW must have thought "wow someone bought one of our LOTR models!" ??

They are nice models of somewhat costly :P though the guy in store earnt the sale after doing dozens of size comparisons for me

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Is that paint or are they really glowing from inside!?!?!?

Awesome job mate, they really look real and glow-y!!!!!!!!!

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Cheers guys, its nice when I can get a project thats nice and easy to roll with, fortunately the relatively simple glow technique for the Suneaters helps tie together models that might otherwise look disjointed as one cohesive army. As I'm slowly filling up the unit roster I've put together riders for my Aldin Draken ranged cavarly and whilst waiting for the release of the Stormcast Dracolines theyve claimed some mournfang mounts for now!

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Love the toning down of the skin and precise detail work in contrast to the overwhelming "heat" of the weapons on the first prophet character. What a well-themed, comprehensive project. Really inspirational! 

Edited by Rungi
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Adding some endless spells into the mix, splitting the box with my girlfriend here's the ones i ended up taking for the Suneaters whilst the rest (more utility spells and the big old head) join her nature aelves.

 

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4 hours ago, Melcavuk said:

Adding some endless spells into the mix, splitting the box with my girlfriend here's the ones i ended up taking for the Suneaters whilst the rest (more utility spells and the big old head) join her nature aelves.

 

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These are looking nice! Maybe you can create some faction specific Endless Spells, like the new stormiest and night haunt ones?

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Cheers, I'm mulling over concepts but I also dont want to force them in unless I can find a decent niche for them. Thus far many of the concepts I have devised are already accounted for in existing endless spells available, and my volcanic eruption concept falls far too close infunction to the stormcast meteor not to be considered a direct rip off. Until that point i'm just Ogor fluffing out how they explain each of the endless spells (because lets be fair no human wizard is going to of lectured a Suneater caster on what an arcane pendulum is)

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Read through the whole thread...

AMAZING! All I can say is well done :)

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5 hours ago, brettfp said:

Read through the whole thread...

AMAZING! All I can say is well done :)

Cheers, it started out as a small project during a slump in my inspiration for hobby projects, fortunately with the magma dragon bought to get my mojo back everything seemed to grow naturally from that point.

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Since nothing is really finished until its chased Johan for a while here's a few of my finished models and the most recently finished Johann.

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The start of a WIP Allied Wizard for my Suneaters Tribes so I can play with some endless spells. Wurgogg Prophet because I've always loved the model and now finally have a reason to use him. He has the pink skin to match the grots from within the tribes rumoured to be from the local fungi in Aqshy being the colour of fyreroot, though Orruks and Grots bearing the pink skin are often shunned by their own kind for being too close to mankin to be true Orruks

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Kudos Melcavuk, I just saw the Suneater Tribe featured on Warhammer Community.

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